Monday, April 28, 2014

Emor

Leviticus 21:1−24:23

The Pursuit Of Happiness

By Rabbi Bradley Artson, Provided by the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies, which ordains Conservative rabbis at the American Jewish University.

As identified Jews, our speech and actions reflect on our families and the larger Jewish people.


Ours is a culture that glories in individuality and autonomy.

The foundation documents of the United States affirm the right of each individual to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Pilgrims fled England and Europe, so we are told, to practice religious liberty and to find individual freedom as well.

Justly proud of our national ideals of personal liberty and freedom, we cherish the ability to pursue happiness each in our own way. Even those Americans who came later came in search of economic freedom and personal expression. The ability to move wherever one chose, to work in any field one could, to rise as one's talent could propel a career, speaks still to the core of our ideals as Americans.

While there is certainly merit to that perspective, it reflects a different priority than that of traditional Judaism. Where American law speaks primarily of individual rights, Jewish law emphasizes duties to others. America understands "freedom" as an absence of restraints; Judaism perceives "freedom" as the ability to be fully caring, involved and responsive.
Human Connections

The syntax of the Torah reflects that interdependent notion of human connection. In describing the anonymous man who blasphemes against God, the Torah informs us that "his mother's name was Sh'lomit, the daughter of Dibri of the tribe of Dan." Why do we need such a lengthy presentation of this anonymous punk's family and kin? Alone, he provoked a fight, and he cursed God alone, so why involve his innocent mother, grandfather and tribe?

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Monday, April 21, 2014

Kedoshim

Leviticus 19:1-20:27

Ritual And Ethics: A Holy Blend


Only through the combination of ritual and ethics can Judaism fully express itself.


By Rabbi Bradley Artson. Provided by the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies, which ordains Conservative rabbis at the American Jewish University.
In any five-book anthology, the third book always forms the center of that collection.

So it is that Vayikra (Leviticus) is the center of the Torah. At the center of Vayikra is Kedoshim, the Holiness Code. This parashah is central in more than just location. A pinnacle of spirit and morality, it embodies the high water mark of all religious writing, in any period.

What makes Kedoshim uniquely magnificent is its insistence on a maximal Judaism--one which demands much, teaches even more, and which creates a completely new orientation in the hearts of those who try to take it seriously.

Kedoshim does not tailor Judaism to fit the personalities or ideologies of any particular group of Jews. Instead, it posits a lofty set of standards and then challenges the Jews of every age to rise up to match its high ideals and exalted holiness. It asks of us all to grow beyond our own comfortable conventions, our own sleepy standards, to confront our evasion of excellence.

There are some Jews for whom Judaism is primarily a set of behavior. What matters, for them, is whether or not a Jew performs the required behavior (ritual) in the proper manner. Such people measure "religious Jews" by the number of homes they won't eat in or by the punctilious performance of ritual deeds.

Yet another group of Jews see Judaism exclusively as a form of social action. Ethics, for them, is the sum and total of any "living" Judaism. Marching against injustice, petitioning Congress and writing letters to the editor--this forms the entirety of what is important in being Jewish. Either of these approaches to Judaism may be right, but neither of them captures the totality of Kedoshim.

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Monday, April 14, 2014

Shabbat Chol haMoed Passover

Rabbi Barry Leff Beth Tikvah Congregation - Richmond, British Columbia, a Conservative Congregation

One of my favorite passages in the Torah is one that we read today, on the Shabbat that falls during Pesach (Passover). Vayomer harayni na et k’vodecha, And he said, “Please show me your Glory” (Exodus 33:18).

The reason that passage resonates so strongly with me is that as I struggle in my relationship with God—as I ask God “show me your Glory”—I find it very comforting somehow that even Moses, who talked to God, who saw a vision of God in the burning bush, who was the vehicle through which miracles were performed, still had the need to ask this question. It symbolizes for me that our search for God is never complete. That no matter what kind of spiritual level we reach, a sense of yearning for more is an integral part of the religious experience. It’s a message to accept that yearning for greater intimacy with God as an essential ingredient in how we mere mortals relate to God—that we don’t need to feel frustrated or disappointed that we haven’t solved all the mysteries, or achieved a relationship as close as we would like.

I want to explore two questions today. First, why do we read this passage today? I love it, it’s a beautiful passage, but what’s the connection to Passover? And secondly, what is it that Moses is asking for? After all, he’s already on “intimate” terms with God; how do we understand this seemingly strange request?

The Torah reading for today is Exodus 33:12-34:26. The obvious connection to today is in the latter part of the reading: 34:18-25 gives an account of the three pilgrimage festivals, which include Passover.  But why did the rabbis decide to include this earlier section that talks about God’s relationship with Moses?

For a clue, we can put this reading in the context of the other scriptural readings we have today. It is customary to read Shir haShirim, the Song of Songs today, and the haftorah for today is a selection from the book of Ezekiel which talks about resurrection. 
Shir haShirim is read today because this is the spring holiday--in fact, one of the names for Pesach is Chag haAviv, the spring holiday—and Shir haShirim is clearly tied to the spring. It is full of references to flowers, beautiful fragrances, intimacy—all images we associate with the spring. Spring is a time of rebirth and renewal. Trees bud, grass grows, flowers bloom, lambs are born. Which makes the Ezekiel text understandable as the physical resurrection described is surely the most
potent symbol of rebirth we can imagine.

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Monday, April 7, 2014

Shabbat HaGadol - Acharei Mot

Leviticus 16:1-18:30

Threat And Promise Of Conformity

We can learn from and adopt only those practices foreign to Judaism that enhance and strengthen Jewish practice.


By Rabbi Bradley Artson; Provided by the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies, which ordains Conservative rabbis at the American Jewish University.

In the movie Zelig, Woody Allen portrays an individual who repeatedly rises to the pinnacle of success through his uncanny ability to become identical to those in power. Time after time, Zelig is able to transform himself into the image of people around him, and those people reward his ability by offering Zelig influence, prominence and prestige.

The movie audience sees Zelig in photographs with Indian chieftains, Nazi generals and capitalist millionaires.

In each case, he has become more like them than they are themselves. Always in the center, always a passionate advocate, Zelig's zeal and enthusiasm bear the mark of his insecurity. His very passion reveals his wish to belong.

Zelig portrays the Jews throughout history. Like him, we too have managed to adopt the look and the rhythm of the cultures in which we dwell. We take it as a matter of pride that we become better guardians of the dominant culture than are its biological children. Always under suspicion of being outsiders, we seek to prove our right to belong through our zeal and our ingenuity.

Assimilation, the drive to become like the people we live among, is a time-honored Jewish passion. It is certainly one of our consummate talents. American Jews talk, dress, vacation and work as do all other Americans. With a few exceptions, our habits and lifestyles reflect the priorities of American culture. It is no coincidence that "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" was written by a Jew, or that "You're A Grand Old Flag" was sung by one.

Our Torah portion addresses this issue in clear terms. "You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you . . . You shall keep My laws and My rules, by the pursuit of which man shall live."

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